Destinations: And a Bottle of Rum
by Genesis Wolfe
Summary: Gen and Roz are back, and they're taking to the life of piracy quite well. Unfortunately, their daring captain is suddenly off his rocker and fleeing from the Kraken...and everyone is along for the ride. Based on "Dead Man's Chest."
1. In Which We Play Catch Up

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn. And they highly regret it.**

_Author's Note: Welcome back, faithful readers! I want to thank each and every one of you who have favorite this series or left a review…your love keeps me writing it! :)__ Note: to any new readers, PLEASE go to my profile and read the two other "Destinations" volumes first, entitled "Really Bad Eggs" and "What D'you Do With a Drunken Sailor." This is a sequel of sorts, and won't make much sense unless you read those works. As for the sudden "M" rating...this installment of the story has a darker theme, much like Dead Man's Chest becomes slightly darker than Curse of the Black Pearl. There will be adult scenes (which may or may not be featured here, but I may eventually post them on my website in…ahem…detail), but you will have plenty of warning so that you may skip them if you prefer. Other than that…happy reading!_

**Chapter One: In Which We Play Catch Up**

Rain pounded down from the dreary, hammering sky, splashing in muddy puddles that surrounded the lone figure on the beach. A soaked veil of tulle rippled behind her in the storm, and her brown eyes were locked on the bouquet of flowers in her hands. The drops of rain mingled with the dampness of her eyes, so that only the redness of them gave away her tears.

The jarring sound of a gate being forced open broke Elizabeth Swann of her heartbroken reverie, and she looked over her shoulder. Her betrothed was in manacles, being held by men in the familiar red uniform of the Navy.

"Will," she breathed, rising to her feet, quite a feat due to the wet heaviness of her wedding gown. She ran to him, relieved that he had not truly abandoned her at the altar, concerned as to what brought on his arrest.

"Why is this happening?" she said, clutching at his jacket.

"I don't know," Will Turner said angrily. He paused, his dark eyes gazing at her softly. "You look beautiful."

Elizabeth smiled with a sad little laugh. "I think it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"Make way! Let me through!"

Elizabeth turned to see her father pushing his way through the crowd. He moved toward her, but two soldiers barred his path with their longaxes.

"How dare you?" the governor spat indignantly. "Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?"

"Governor Weatherby Swann," came a smooth voice. "It's been too long."

They turned to see a nobleman approaching, followed by a lesser officer. Elizabeth frowned, trying to place the face. She didn't have to remember on her own.

"Cutler Beckett," Governor Swann said coldly.

"'His Lord,' now, actually," Beckett said with a gratified smile.

"Lord or not," Governor Swann fumed. "You have no reason and no authority to arrest this man."

"In fact," Beckett replied, the Cheshire Cat smile on his face growing. "I do."

He turned to the man he had approached with. "Mister Mercer."

Mercer handed his boss a paper, which he handed to the governor.

"The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner," Beckett said slyly.

Swann looked down at the paper in confusion. "This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann," he read weakly.

"Oh, is it?" Beckett said, unable to hide his pleasure. "That's annoying. My mistake. Arrest her."

"No!" Will yelled.

"On what charges?" Elizabeth cried, struggling as two soldiers laid hands on her.

Beckett ignored her, taking yet another paper from Mercer. "Ah-ha, here's the one for William Turner," he said. Two more papers found his hand. "And I also have two more, one for a Mister James Norrington, and a Miss Rosalyn O'Brien. Are they present?"

"_What are the charges?_" Elizabeth yelled.

"Commodore Norrington resigned his commission some months ago," Swann explained to Beckett, his face a picture of confusion. "And Miss O'Brien left our employment over a year ago…"

"I don't believe that's the answer to the question I asked," Beckett said.

"Lord Beckett," Will said angrily. "In the category of questions _not_ answered…"

"We are under the jurisdiction of the King's governor of Port Royal," Elizabeth said firmly. "And you will tell us what we are charged with."

"The charge…" Governor Swann was reading the warrant, his face falling as he spoke. "…is conspiring to set free criminals convicted of crimes against the crown and empire, and condemned to death, for which the --"

"For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death," Beckett interrupted. "Perhaps you remember two certain pirates named Genesis Morgan and Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_," Will and Elizabeth corrected simultaneously. They glanced at each other.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth repeated.

"'Captain' Jack Sparrow," Beckett said in a pleased tone. "Yes, I thought you might."

&&&&&&&&&&

_"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest…yo ho ho and a bottle o' rum…"_

Joshamee Gibbs wandered the deck of the _Black Pearl_, keeping a watch out, though the amount of the aforementioned rum he had drank prevented him from doing the job particularly well.

_"Drink and the devil had done for the rest…yo ho ho and a bottle o' rum…"_

"Oy, Gibbs!"

Gibbs looked up, stumbling back a tad, to follow the voice to its owner. A feminine form was aloft in the riggings, tying off a knot as they made ready to sail, as soon as the captain was back.

"Care to share the love, mate?" Genesis Wolfe, or Genesis Morgan as the crew knew her, said with a grin. He gave her a smile and tossed the flask up her way. She caught it, taking a swig as he eyed her from below. Genesis had become a vital crew member. She had a knack for climbing and for risking her neck, making her a perfect candidate for working the riggings. It had been rumored that the captain was even training her up to take over the bo'sun position if something should happen to Leech, given her ability to take charge. And her ability to yell. Her companion, Rosalyn O'Brien, had been made a lookout, and was currently high above in the crow's nest (he could just make out the shine of her auburn hair in the moonlight), and both women lent a hand in entertaining the crew with music and dancing. All in all…even Joshamee Gibbs couldn't complain.

Gen topped the flask and tossed it back down to its proper owner, giving him a wink. He laughed heartily as he raised it back to his own lips, but was interrupted by the somber tolling of a bell. He and Gen watched as a flock of crows flew from the island, startled by the sound, and flew above the ship, right past the crow's nest. Roz's annoyed cry echoed down at them, and despite the grave mood set by the bell, they laughed at the woman's outburst.

The angry yells paused for a moment, and Roz let out an excited whoop. "Captain off the starboard side, baby!"

"All hands on deck!" Gibbs yelled, turning to make sure the crew followed orders.

Genesis grinned, hopping off the plank she was sitting on and climbing down the riggings to the deck. She had long since come by more traditional pirate wear, trading in her denim shorts and tank top for a white shirt, black corset and black breeches tucked into tall black riding boots. She ran to the rails, peering into the black water below to see Captain Jack Sparrow rowing toward them. In a coffin. With a foot for an oar. Nice.

"Ahoy, there, stranger," she called out good-naturedly. "Goin' our way?"

"Depends," came the echoing reply over the water. "Is this beauty of a ship crewed by naught but wenches constantly in the throes of passion?"

"Well, there's two of 'em, maybe."

"Good enough."

Some ropes were thrown down, and Gibbs stretched out his arms to help Jack up. His hand was met by a skeletal foot, which he held up in confusion as Jack made his way up on his own. Cotton approached, laying Jack's coat over the captain's back.

"Not _quite_ according to plan," Gibbs mused.

"Complications arose, ensued, were overcome," Jack said flippantly.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," Gen said. "Master storyteller."

"You got what you went in for, then?" Gibbs asked excitedly.

"Mm-hmm!" Jack said, pulling out a rolled piece of cloth and waving it around.

"Captain," Gibbs said slowly, eyeing the cloth. "I think the crew, meaning me as well, were expecting something a bit more…shiny." He wiggled his fingers to convey a glittering action.

"Or at least soap," said Rosalyn as she dropped to the deck. "Soap is good." She had also taken to more traditional pirating garb, currently in a corset and wide-legged black cropped pants.

"What with the Isla de Muerta going all pear-shaped, reclaimed by the sea, and the treasure with it," Gibbs continued. Leech broke through the crowd of men that had gathered.

"And the Royal Navy chasing us all around the Atlantic," he said.

"And the hurricane!" piped Marty the Dwarf.

"Aye!" agreed the crew.

"All in all," Gibbs said in a low tone. "It seems some time since we did a speck of honest piratin'."

Jack frowned thoughtfully. "Shiny?"

"Aye, shiny," Gibbs replied.

"Soapy," Roz muttered.

"Is that how you're all feeling then?" Jack announced to the crew. "Perhaps dear old Jack is not serving your best interests as captain?"

Leech looked about, waiting for someone to speak up. Genesis shot him a look.

"Awk!" cried Cotton's parrot. "Walk the plank!"

Jack went into overdrive, whipping out his pistol and pointing it at the bird with a maniacal look in his eye. "What did the bird say?"

"Give me that, you nutjob," Gen scolded, yanking the gun from his hand.

"Do not blame the bird," Leech said irritably. "Show us what is on that piece of cloth there."

Before Jack could do that very thing, there was a high pitched snarl, and Monkey Jack leapt out of nowhere, snatching the cloth from the captain's hand and scampering off with it. Jack grabbed the pistol back from Gen, aimed and shot. It missed, and the monkey chattered tauntingly. Jack reached over and grabbed a pistol from Leech's belt and shot again. The monkey squealed and dropped the cloth, screaming angrily at Jack before scurrying up to the rigging, unharmed.

"You know that don't do no good," Gibbs said.

"It does me," Jack replied.

"It really is good therapy," Roz said, glaring up at the monkey. The monkey grinned.

Marty picked up the cloth from the deck. "It's a key!"

"No!" Jack said in a pleased tone. "Much more better…"

"Much…more…better…" Gen said, grimacing at the grammar.

"It is a _drawing_ of a key," Jack said, holding up the cloth. "Gentlemen, and semi-ladies, what do keys do?"

"They're the perfect size for shoving up your ass," Roz said indignantly.

"Keys…unlock…_things_?" Leech ventured.

"And whatever this key unlocks, _inside_ there's something valuable," Gibbs theorized. "So, we're setting out to find whatever this key unlocks!"

"No!" Jack said. "If we don't have the key, we can't open whatever it is we don't have that it unlocks. So what purpose would be served in finding whatever need be unlocked, which we don't have, without first having found the key what unlocks it?"

"So," Gibbs said slowly. "We're going after this key."

"You're not making any sense at all," Jack said. "Any more questions?"

"Yeah," Genesis said, raising her hand. "What have you been smoking?"

"And where can we get some?" Roz piped up.

"Do we have a heading?" Marty asked.

"Hah!" Jack said, taking out his compass. "A heading! Set sail in…a…mmm…"

He frowned at the face of the compass. Gen raised an eyebrow and peered over his shoulder, watching his finger twirl uncertainly. To her surprise, his finger was following the strangely rotating dial of the compass. "Jack…?"

"A general…in _that_ way. Direction." He pointed randomly, snapping the compass shut. He caught Gen's confused glance, but ignored it. Gibbs did not.

"Cap'n?" he asked, eyes on Genesis, who returned the look.

"Come on, snap to and make sail, you know how this works," Jack snapped at the crew. "Come on! OI OI OI."

While most of the crew scattered to do their captain's bidding, Gibbs, Marty, Genesis and Rosalyn lingered by the railing.

"Have you noticed lately," Marty ventured. "The captain seems to be actin' a bit strange…"

A look from Rosalyn.

"…er?"

"Settin' sail without knowing his own headin'?" Gibbs said, staring after Jack. "Somethin's got Jack vexed. Mark my words, what bodes ill for Jack Sparrow bodes ill for us all."

"Speak for yourself," Rosalyn said. "I imagine he thinks a bath is an ill bode, and I think that bodes pretty damned well for the rest of us."

Gibbs smirked a tad. "See if ye girls can wrest somethin' out o' him," he said, turning to go about his business. Gen glanced at Roz, and they made their way to Jack's cabin, where he had disappeared to.


	2. In Which Jack Spazzes

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn. And they highly regret it.**

_Author's Note: So, I switched the rating back to "T." For now. May as well keep it available to the general audience until something naughty happens, eh?_

**Chapter Two: In Which Jack Spazzes**

Will Turner was being led forcefully through the fort, wrists shackled. He was finally pushed into what used to be Commodore Norrington's private office.

"Lord Beckett," said the guard. "The prisoner as ordered, sir."

Beckett glanced up from his paperwork. His eyes fell on the shackles. "Those won't be necessary."

The guard removed Will's manacles as Beckett stood, pouring some brandy into two snifters.

"The East India Trading Company has need of your services," Beckett said, offering Will a snifter. Will shook his head curtly. "We wish for you to act as our agent in a business transaction with our mutual friend, Captain Sparrow."

"More acquaintance than friend," Will corrected. He hadn't heard from Jack in a year. He looked at Beckett curiously. "How do you know him?"

"We've had dealings in the past," Beckett said, picking up a hot brand from the fireplace. Will's eyes widened slightly at the familiar "P" at the end of it. "And we've each left our mark…on the other."

Will's dark eyes narrowed. "What mark did he leave on you?"

Beckett clearly ignored the question. "By your efforts, Jack Sparrow was set free. I would like you to go to him, and recover a certain property in his possession."

Will tilted his head as Beckett walked to his desk, suddenly silent. "Recover," he ventured. "At the point of a sword?"

"_Bargain_," Beckett snapped. He opened a wooden box on his desk, pulling out leather envelopes and turning back to Will.

"Letters of Marque," he explained. "You will offer what amounts to a full pardon. Jack will be free; a privateer in the employ of England."

Will snorted. "Somehow I doubt Jack will consider employment the same as being free."

Beckett pulled a face, his voice tainted with disgust. "Freedom," he scoffed, closing the box curtly. "Jack Sparrow is a dying breed."

He moved to his balcony, beckoning for Will to follow. Will watched as a clock face was being hoisted to the top of a newly built tower. Redcoats bustled below them. More than usual. Will frowned.

"The world is shrinking," Beckett said, looking out on the scene. "The blank pages of the map filled in. Jack must find his place in the new world, or perish. Not unlike you, Mister Turner. You and your fiancée face the hangman's noose."

"So," Will said after a moment. "You get both Jack _and _the _Black Pearl_."

"The _Black Pearl_?" Beckett responded, genuinely puzzled.

"The property you want that he possesses."

"A ship? Hardly," Beckett said dismissively. "The item in question's considerably smaller and far more valuable. Something Sparrow keeps on his person at all times. A compass."

Beckett smiled as Will looked away. "Ah, you know it. Bring me that compass, or there's no deal."

Will frowned, turning to leave. He was halted by Beckett's hand on his arm.

"You know the girl."

Will raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Beckett. "I know many girls," he said matter-of-factly. "You'll have to be much more specific, Lord Beckett."

"Genesis Morgan," Beckett said irritably. "I've been told that the two of you seemed very friendly. You know her well?"

"Not as well as you seem to be implying," Will said with a scowl. Genesis was more like a younger sister. The very thought was disturbing. "Why?"

"I want you to bring her to me as well."

Will's eyes narrowed. "For what reasons?"

"The name of Morgan is infamous, Mister Turner," Beckett said. "The lovely Genesis, as I've heard she is, would make a fine addition to our prisons." He eyed Will's set jaw. "I'd suggest that you do as I say. You must ask yourself, Mister Turner, who would you rather see in the gallows; Miss Morgan, or Miss Swann?"

Will stared at the man for a moment, and dropped his head. Beckett smiled as the blacksmith walked out. It was easier than he had planned.

&&&&&&&&&&

Jack was sitting at his desk, calipers in hand, setting a course. Or attempting to.

"Why does it always smell like hot ass and Cheetos in here?" Rosalyn asked suddenly, wrinkling her freckled nose. Genesis choked on the hardtack she was munching on, and Jack tossed the redhead an irritated glance. It was a typical sight in the evenings; if they weren't out on deck, performing music and dancing for the crew, the two girls often holed up in Jack's cabin. To provide him with "company," they said. More likely, to irritate the hell out of him. But he continued to allow it, if only for the view.

Jack tapped at the compass. The damned thing still wasn't working. He picked it up, eyeing it closely. His eyes shifted as he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Rosalyn was slowly leaning toward him, eyes locked on his, a strangely calm expression on her face. He wasn't entirely sure what she was getting at, since she normally did her best not to be affectionate, and he leaned away from her just as slowly and in a wary manner. Suddenly, her hand snatched out, swiping the compass from his hand.

"'Ey!" he cried out, trying to grab it back. She slapped his hand away.

"I know what I want, I know what I want," she said, closing her eyes. She opened one and peeked at the compass. A triumphant smile spread across her face. "Ah-ha!"

"What?" Jack asked, leaning over to look at the compass. The pin pointed at the table. At his bottle of rum. His dark eyes met her green, and there was a moment of silence, with Gen eyeing them both like they were quite mad, before the pair both lunged at the bottle. Roz got there first, and there was a short scuffle before Jack gained the upper hand, quite literally. He snatched the bottle away, putting a stilling hand on Roz's forehead to keep her at bay while she struggled for the bottle.

"So, Jack," Gen said, kicking her boots onto the table and leaning back. "Any reason your compass is spinning like the _Peacock_ on Wild Rum Wednesdays?"

"Ah, Wednesdays," Roz said with a fond smile, giving up the fight as her mind went back to their favored tavern in Tortuga.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack said, focusing on the map before him. Gen frowned, and Jack looked at his rum bottle, turning it upside down. Empty.

"Why is the rum always gone?" he asked to no one in particular. Roz and Gen exchanged glances, and Genesis discretely dropped a foot from the table to push the mug full of rum she had taken when Jack wasn't looking under her chair. Jack rose to his feet and staggered, conveniently stumbling into his hat where it was perched on a globe.

"Oh!" he said good-naturedly. "That's why!"

Gen couldn't help but smile at his drunken silliness. Roz pouted at him.

"What?" he asked.

"If you're going down there…" she said, lifting an empty wine bottle by the neck and shaking it just above the tabletop, so that the bottom clinked the wood meaningfully. Jack frowned and sighed, and looked to Genesis.

"And you?" he asked reluctantly.

"I'll take some rum," she said. Her lips curled into a grin. "And if you could deliver it naked, that'd be swell."

Jack grinned in a pleased manner.

"Ew," Roz said. "Ew. That's…ew. Remain clothed while you handle my wine, would you?"

"You must be blind, Rosalyn," he said, not at all insulted. "Refusing a chance to see me in my full, godly, unclothed glory? Blind and mad."

"Well, my sense of smell's as good as ever, so I'm not interested."

Gen snorted, and Jack frowned. "Suit yourself," he said, turning flamboyantly on his heel and walking out. Gen bit her lip, glancing at Roz.

"Well, didn't really get anything out of him did we?" she said, Cockney accent dropped, as it often did when she and Roz were alone.

"Speak for yourself," Roz replied. She gave up on attempting a decent British accent long ago. "I got him to get me a bottle of wine."

Gen smirked, reaching down to grab the hidden mug and taking down the last bit of rum from the bottom of it. Her eyes looked to the door Jack had just walked out of. Leech and the crew had been right; they had been through a lot with little but their lives to show for it. Commodore James Norrington had proven more than a worthy adversary; he'd chased them all over the world for the past year. Only a hurricane had been able to stop him. The idea sent chills down Gen's spine; had you said Norrington was so powerful prior to her coming to this time, she'd have laughed in your face. Now she looked at the man with more than a bit of awe.

But, since the Isla de Muerta adventure, things had died down. Well, as down as it can get when you're one of two women on a boat full of pirates. They'd lost the "Third Musketeer," as Jack often called Anamaria, much to her dismay, early on in their journey. A successful ransacking of a merchant ship meant a boat for the dark beauty, which is why she had signed up to be on Jack's crew in the first place. She remained an ally though, despite her still-unexplained dislike of Genesis and Rosalyn. And Jack, at times.

Jack. Oh, Jack. That was an iffy topic. On one hand, Gen was an innocent, despite her flirtations, and knew that Jack Sparrow was not the man to lose your heart (and other things) to. On the other hand…he was Captain Jack Sparrow. But logic won out. Despite many attempts to woo both girls into his cabin for more scandalous activities, they both refused. Rosalyn was a long shot and their relationship was often more of the dysfunctional brother-sister sort, but he had been so puzzled when Gen refused him. Unlike Roz, she flirted relentlessly and showed more than a bit of attraction to him. But Gen had kept her wits about her…much to his dismay and much to the disagreement from her own emotions.

_"On deck all hands!"_

Genesis was broken out of her reverie by the bellow from outside the cabin. Rosalyn was so startled that she upset her chair and tumbled backward out of it. Her red head popped back up to look to the door.

"What the hell is his problem?" she asked.

_"Make fast the bunt gasket! On deck! Scurry, scurry! I want movement!"_

Rosalyn was making her way back to her feet when their captain burst back into the cabin. His eyes were frantic, and he stalked over to the girls, grabbing each roughly by the arms and dragging them out of the cabin. Had Gen not been so irritated, it would have been humorous.

_"I want MOVEMENT!"_

"But you're holding our _arms_," Roz argued logically.

"Lift the skin up!" Gibbs called. Gen glanced at the frenzied crew, and pulled her arm free of Jack's grasp.

"Jack, what the hell is going on?"

"All on deck!" he bellowed, ignoring her. He looked at the girls "You two. Run. And keep running! Get to your stations." He looked back to the crew, raising his voice once again. "Run as if the devil himself and itself is upon us!"

Genesis looked at Roz, and the girls scurried off, Roz to the riggings leading to the crow's nest, Gen up into the lowest mast, where she could still hear and converse with those below as she tied down sails.

Gibbs swung out from behind the mast she was perched on. "Do we have a heading?"

Jack looked terrified, hiding behind the other side of the mast. "Ah! Oh! Land! Run!" He circled around the other side of the mast, once again being frightened by Gibbs, who hadn't moved an inch.

"Which port?" Gibbs asked, casting a quizzical look at Gen above.

"Didn't say port," Jack said quickly. "I said land. Any land."

"Land?" Gen said quietly.

At that moment, Monkey Jack, in all his corpsified glory, swung down unseen from another beam, snatching Jack's hat. Jack cried out, only to receive a wicked snarl in reply. When he snarled back in an oh-so-mature manner, the monkey threw the hat overboard in retaliation.

"Jack's hat!" Gen yelled in horror.

"Bring 'er about!" Gibbs said, seeing the severity of the situation.

"No!" Jack argued. "Leave it! Run!" And so he did.

Gen looked up to Roz, who was currently watching the floating hat in amazement. Gen hopped down from the mast, landing next to Gibbs, and they both looked back in the direction Jack had run off in. They found him under some stairs, stiff as a board, trembling like a leaf.

"Jack?" Gen said tentatively. He scowled at her.

"Shh!"

"For the love of mother and child, Jack," Gibbs said, clearly stunned to see his captain like this. "What's coming after us?"

A pause.

"Nothing."


	3. In Which They Made Him Their Chief

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn, and the little French hooker, Theresa. And they highly regret it. The lovely Calliope featured in this chapter is property of the even lovelier Bean Rua, used with utmost respect and love. ^_^ **

_Author's Note: Yay for cameos! The characters of Calliope and Theresa (the Frenchwoman you'll see in a manner of moments) were originally part of Code of the Brethren, a pirate RPG I used to run with the inspiration for Rosalyn. Thought you'd like some trivia. XD_

**Chapter Three: In Which They Made Him Their Chief**

"Tie them down, men, make it secure!"

Genesis straightened, rubbing her back and wiping the sweat from her brow. She looked down at her handiwork; the knot was reliable, tied around a heavy metal stake she and Marty had hammered into the wet sand of the beach. Given the work she was doing, she'd forgone her effects and restricting corset for a sleeveless white blouse, black, loose cropped pants, and a red sash at her hips to keep the oversized pants up. She squinted in the sunlight, spotting Jack. Giving the stake a kick to ensure its stability, she made her way over to him.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Miss Morgan?"

Gen grimaced. "I hate when you call me that."

"Yes, Miss Morgan."

She scowled at him. "Captain, you know I'm one of your most faithful crewmen."

"Aye, Genesis, I thank you for it. Among other things." This earned another scowl.

"And I rarely question your decisions or authority."

"Now hold on, I can think of times when you've--"

"I said 'rarely,' not 'never,'" she argued. "However, I feel myself obliged to ask; WHAT THE HELL?"

"Yeah," came another feminine voice, and Rosalyn appeared over the railing of the ship, plopping down and dangling her bare feet over it. "Any reason we've run the ship aground, or was this some sort of backwoods effed-up attempt to ramp the island?"

"Supplies," Jack said quickly. Roz made the crazy-person gesture with her index finger around her temple. Gen eyed the jungle before them.

"A rum cache?" she ventured. Jack paused.

"Sure," he said, making it sound more like an agreement than a definitive answer. He glanced back at the ocean, looking a bit green around the gills, and barked out orders. "Into the foliage, men. Rosalyn, you'll stay aboard, keep an eye out. You're the loudest."

Rosalyn looked momentarily insulted, paused, and nodded and shrugged in agreement, disappearing once more beyond the railing above them.

They made their way through the underbrush of the jungle, Gibbs in the lead, Jack and Gen right behind him, and the rest of the crew in a single file line back further still. Gibbs glanced back at Jack after a quarter mile.

"Jack, is there rhyme or reason to this?" he asked. "Is the extra rum really worth it? We have plen--"

His eyes widened suddenly. Gen looked at him in alarm. "Gibbs?" she said softly. She yelped and leapt back as he fell forward into the foliage at their feet. Jack knelt down to him, Gen looking over his shoulder. He moved Gibbs' ponytail aside to reveal a dart. Gen looked up in the direction they were heading and gasped. In the shadows, painted, half-naked men stood, only visible when they moved. Jack looked up as well.

"Oh, bugger."

_"Back to the ship!"_ she cried, grabbing Jack by the collar and pulling him to his feet. He latched onto her hand, and together, along with the crew, they scrambled through the underbrush. She cried out as she saw the crew, one by one, fall as if hit by an invisible force.

"Ohmygodwe'regonnadiewe'regonnadie," she repeated multiple times.

"Don't jinx us!" Jack said in an annoyed tone, looking over to glare at her. She returned the look, only to trip over a root and face plant into the soft earth of the forest floor. Jack skidded to a halt, turning to help her up.

"Jack, go!" she protested, shaking her head. But he had paused too long. An odd zipping sound was followed by Jack's body hitting the ground, his face mere inches from her own, eyes glazed in his unconsciousness.

"Jack!" she screamed. The zipping sound flew through the air again, and she felt a mosquito bite her neck. And all went black.

&&&&&&&&&&

Voices. She heard voices.

She couldn't see properly. Her eyelids were heavy, and she could only keep them open for brief periods of blurry imagery at first, though things became clearer as the voices grew louder.

"Won-peeky-chee."

She looked groggily up, the sunlight glaring in her sensitive eyes. She saw two of the natives debating. Over her? Over the crew? The crew…

Her head swung to the side. Yes, there they were. She couldn't count them, but they were there. A couple were even conscious, though not much more so than she. They were tied up, all the men together. That was odd.

Hey…she was too! But all the way over here? Why wasn't she with the men?

"Peeky-chee top top oonie."

That voice was horribly familiar. She swung her head the other way to see Jack in the throne she was tied to, wearing a huge headdress and with paint on his face. She frowned groggily at him.

"What the hell is on your head, Sparrow?" she mumbled.

"Quiet, woman," he said, talking to her softly so as not to get the arguing native's attention. "They made me their chief." He continued speaking at the 'you've got to be kidding' look she gave him.

"From the sounds of it, they're planning on taking the crew away somewhere," he muttered. "Not sure why you're not included, but count yourself lucky, and play along. All right? Play along…hey!"

Gen looked up as a native stepped up to her, grabbing her by the arm roughly and cutting the rope that bound her to the chair. She looked panicked. "Wait, where am I going?" She looked to the crew, only to see them being ushered in the opposite direction. "Gibbs!"

The first mate looked back, noticing that the feminine minority was not being included in their little walkabout. "Miss Gen!" he cried out. The crew attempted a coup, but the natives overpowered them, and they were led away.

"Jack!" she yelled as the native, now with a partner, as she was thrashing like a hellcat, dragged her into a hut. Jack's jaw was set hard, but he made no move to help her as the leather flap of the hut closed behind her.

&&&&&&&&&&

Will Turner hurried down the stone steps of the fort's prison, Governor Swann at his heels. The guard at the bottom took a step forward, looking stern.

"Here now," he said, looking from Will to Swann. "He can't be here."

"I think you'll find he can," Swann replied in a cool tone, clearly not in the mood to argue. The guard did not pick up on the hint.

"Mister Swann --"

"_Governor_ Swann, still," the older man corrected indignantly. "Do you think I wear this wig to keep my head warm?"

Elizabeth frowned as Will explained his conversation with Lord Beckett. "Jack's compass," she said softly. "What does Beckett want with that?"

"Does it matter?" Will replied. "I'm to find Jack and convince him to return to Port Royal. In exchange the charges against us will be dropped."

"Jack'll never come," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "If he hasn't the common sense to stay away, Rosalyn will."

"No," Governor Swann said. "We must find our own avenue to secure your freedom."

Will's brow furrowed at his future father-in-law. "Is that a lack of faith in Jack, or in me?"

"That you would risk your life to save Sparrow's does _not_ mean that he would do the same for anyone else," Swann retorted. He glanced around. "Now, where's that dog with the keys?"

"Jack, perhaps not," Will said thoughtfully. "But Genesis might…"

"Genesis Morgan?" Elizabeth scoffed. "She looks out for no one but herself, if not more so than Jack."

"You clearly have not had the chance to get to know her," Will said solemnly. He missed Elizabeth's narrowed look. "Jack'll help us."

"I have faith in you," Elizabeth said, reaching out to gently caress her fiancé's bearded chin. "Both of you. Where will you find him?"

"Tortuga."

&&&&&&&&&&

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow?" replied a weather-beaten sailor on the docks. "Owes me four doubloons."

"I'm not entirely surprised," Will muttered.

"Heard he was dead," the man offered. Will frowned and thanked the man, turning only to run into another denizen of Tortuga. The man's left eye was clouded, and a filthy hand clamped over Will's shoulder, smelling strongly of fish and body odor.

"Singapore," said the blind fisherman. "'S'what I heard. Drunk with a smile on his face."

"Once again," Will said. "Not surprised."

"Sure as the tide," the fisherman said, releasing Will and looking off to the sea. "Jack Sparrow…will turn up in Singapore."

Well, Singapore was quite the boat trip, so Will decided to visit the _Albino Peacock_ in hopes of rustling up some more detailed information before trekking off to Asia. The tavern and brothel was one of the most favored spots for rest and entertainment in the pirate town; if anyone could tell him anything, it'd be someone there.

He stepped inside the crowded tavern, already bustling with business. He frowned; who ran this place? Or at least worked here?

He spotted a beautiful blonde shouting orders with a heavy French accent. He tapped her on the shoulder.

"Pardon me," he asked politely. "Do you own this establishment?"

"Ha!" the woman replied. "You could not _pay me_ to be a proprietor of a business. So much hassle. I leave zat to Calliope, _merci._"

"Oh…where is this Calliope?" he asked, glad to be on some sort of trail.

"Over zere," the prostitute replied, pointing to the bar. Will's eyes widened. She was one of the tallest women he'd ever seen! He nearly gulped as he approached the owner of the _Peacock_, remembering tales of her…he'd heard she carried pistols under her skirts…

"Pardon me?"

The blonde Amazon turned, revealing a lovely face with fine features. He had expected a protruding brow or something. "Yes, duckie, what can I get ya?"

"Actually," he said, waving away a mug of rum she offered. "I was looking for Jack Sparrow."

Calliope smiled. "Ah, lookin' for Jackie, eh?" she said fondly. "Well, it's been a while since he's graced us with his handsome presence. The Peacocks are getting' antsy waitin' for him." She gestured to the working girls.

"So you have no idea where he is," Will said, looking crestfallen.

"Aw, sorry, duck," Calli said sympathetically. "I can tell 'im he had a visitor, though, maybe he'll seek you out. What be your name, sweetie?"

"Will," he replied, looking vexed. "Will Turner. Just let Jack know I'm looking for him, could you?"

Calli nodded and went back to serving drinks.

"Jack Sparrow?"

Will turned to see two familiar faces. The blonde, Giselle, had spoken. Scarlett, hair as red as ever, shrugged.

"I haven't seen 'im in a month," she said dismissively.

"When you find him, will you give him a message?" Giselle said sweetly. She reared back and promptly slapped him across the face, sending his head turning roughly to the side.

"Oh. And give Genni me love, won't ye?"

Will muttered an affirmative answer in return, and ventured back outside, to the docks once more. He saw a shrimper mending nets, and gave a heavy sigh as he approached.

"Ahoy, sailor," he said in a desperate, tired tone. "I've got a question for you, and I would thank you kindly to answer it in a timely fashion, without slapping me or talking my ear off. Could you do that for me?"

The shrimper eyed Will warily, and nodded.

"Do you know anything of a Captain Jack Sparrow? His whereabouts, specifically."

"Cannot say about Jack Sparrow," the shrimper said, eyes going back to his work. Will was about to walk away, when the dark man continued. "But dere's an island, just south of de straits, where I trade spice for…mmm…delicious long pork…"

Will decided quickly that long pork likely wasn't anything good.

"Cannot say about Jack," the man said eerily. "But you find a ship dere. A ship wit' black sails."


	4. In Which Jack's Cabin Meets Mr Clean

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn. And they highly regret it. **

_Author's Note: I just want to inform everyone that I had to watch the same twenty seconds of this bloody movie roughly eighteen times to get the French in this first scene correct. You're welcome._

**Chapter Four: In Which Jack's Cabin Meets Mr. Clean**

A week later, Will found himself aboard a small sloop, gazing at the _Pearl_ through the shrimper's spyglass. He lowered the spyglass, glancing at the shrimper, who looked stern. "My brother will take you ashore."

Barely. Not long after loading himself into the longboat, Will felt the shrimper's brother halt in his rowing. He looked back at the rower.

"What's wrong?" he asked, tone confused. "The beach is right there."

"Ne bourgeois pas," the rower stuttered quickly. "C'est trop dangereux."

"What?" Will said, horribly bewildered by the rower's actions and…well…the French language.

"Je ne peux, c'est trop dangereux, j'avais le dit," the man stammered. "Bon voyage, monsieur!"

Will looked at him for a moment, and coming to the realization he was on his own, stood and dove off of the small boat into the crystalline water of the Caribbean, beginning a lengthy swim to this unknown isle.

&&&&&&&&&&

The look-out was a valuable role on a ship. In the crow's nest, yards above the rest of the crew, one could see for leagues, farther with the help of a spyglass. A look-out is the first to spot land, spot danger, and, in the case of a pirate ship, spot a target.

The only problem with being the look-out is that it is so _bloody BORING_.

It doesn't help when one's attention span is easily broken by the sight and thought of filth that must be cleaned.

That was the current case of one Rosalyn Neveah O'Brien. Yes, Jack had left her back on the ship to be look-out, which, to give him credit, was her usual job aboard the ship. However, they were on an uncharted island, and unlikely to have any trouble, and she therefore decided there were more logical ways to pass the time. And besides, how often were Jack & Co. away from the ship long enough for her to slip into the captain's cabin for some good old-fashioned spring cleaning?

Rosalyn, herself, was currently quite the sight. On one hand, she was dressed in the typical piratical couture; an oversized cream blouse, black breeches, black boots and belt, along with her scabbard and sword (a gift from Will, sent shortly after leaving Port Royal), hair worn down and in intricate curls, fashioned in a technique she created using heated, sawed-off gun barrels. That was when the "typical pirate" look ended. She was armed with a pail full of sudsy water, some burlap sacks for collecting laundry and garbage, and an armload of brooms, scrubbers, and other random cleaning utensils. Along with a length of clean cloth tied around her face, hiding her nose and mouth. There was sure to be some form of disease-causing airborne spore in here.

Roz grimaced as she moved to Jack's desk, which was covered in papers and empty rum bottles. She glanced at the papers; mainly atlases, captain's logs. That was dangerous territory; if she misplaced anything there, they'd probably end up sailing into Port Royal and into Norrington's waiting hands.

Yes. Definitely best to leave the desk-cleaning to Jack. There were plenty of other dangers to the immune system in the cabin.

She decided to go clockwise. First came a small table next to the door, one that currently and often sported Jack's hat, as it was within tossing distance. Gen had moved the table three inches to the left once, and Jack tossed the hat too far onto the floor for a full week before realizing it had been moved. He'd proceeded to shackled Gen to it. It wasn't heavy enough to keep her stationary, but she did have to drag it behind her as she chased him around the deck.

There was a rum bottle on the table. She gripped the neck to pick it up. The table came up with it.

"Oh," Roz said. "That's gross."

A few yanks and a couple splinters of wood later, Roz had dislodged the bottle, tossed it into one of the sacks, and slowly began making her way through the room. It was odd, really; she and Genesis had been in this cabin more often than any other woman in the history of the ship's existence, and they were likely the only ones who hadn't been seduced into doing more bedroom-like activities by the cabin's owner. Well, she hadn't. She was fairly certain Gen hadn't either, given Jack's frequent complaints of the young women's prudishness. She wasn't sure why Gen never did anything with the captain; she knew, for a fact, that Genesis had feelings for him. Loved him even, perhaps. But nothing ever happened.

Hell, Roz sometimes wasn't entirely sure why _she_ didn't jump in bed with the infamous pirate. That man was a whole lot of pretty.

"Jack?"

Roz paused, quirking an eyebrow. She could've sworn she heard the captain's name. She tilted her head, listening more intently, but there was silence. She shook her head. She must've just been…thinking too intently on Jack?

Her mind voice sounded a lot like Orlando Bloom.

She made her way to the bed, wrinkling her small nose from behind the scarf. The sheets were disgusting. She really hoped that was spilled rum. Holding her breath, and began the tedious work of tearing the sheets from Jack's large bed, trying not to touch more surface area than she could help. She no longer wondered why she hadn't yet leapt between these particular sheets.

_"Come on! Who wants it?"_

Roz straightened suddenly. Okay, that was definitely not a mind voice. And it was definitely a familiar one.

"Will?" she muttered, looking in the direction of the door. She made her way back to the deck, the sounds of struggle becoming clearer. She slowly made her way to the railing, red head only half-visible as she peeked over. A certain William Turner Junior was currently hanging by his ankle ten or twenty feet into the jungle, surrounded by a bunch of half-naked and equally half-painted men. Roz's jaw dropped, only to snap shut again to hold back a cry as one of the natives knocked Will out with a dart. Her hand went to her sword as she pondered the situation.

One woman with a sword she only somewhat knew how to use.

Tribal colony with blowguns.

Bo staff, while a more capable weapon in her hands than a sword, clearly not faster than a blowgun.

Roz slowly lowered herself to the deck, turning around and drawing her knees to her chest. This was not good. Jack never said anything about the island being inhabited. She wondered, with a not-so-small amount of dread, if he knew…

&&&&&&&&&&

Lord Cutler Beckett moved with quiet precision as he walked in from the balcony of his office, eyes scanning a letter from London, his most recent list of directions from the Crown. While there was a certain amount of chaos below him due to the recent escape of one Elizabeth Swann, his office had a chilled silence to it, illuminated solely by a single candelabra on his desk. He moved to the desk, sharp hazel eyes falling on the wooden box near his left hand. A corner of leather peeked out from underneath the lid, the lid he would never have left ajar himself. A small, bitter smile curved his lips as he looked up, not bothering to look behind him as he spoke.

"No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes."

Elizabeth slipped out of the shadows, hand held almost casually behind her back. "Then what is?"

"I'm afraid that _currency_ is the currency of the realm," Beckett replied, his smirk growing. He risked a glance back at the lovely young woman, and she sidestepped, intent on not being seen or attacked.

"I expect then that we can come to some sort of understanding," she said, moving to the opposite side from where he looked. "I'm here to negotiate."

"I'm listening," Beckett said in half interest. A muffled shuffling of fabric was heard, and he looked at the young woman, or, rather, the pistol she now had aimed at his face. "I'm listening _intently_."

"These Letters of Marque," Elizabeth said, bringing the leather-clad documents before her with her free hand. "They are signed by the king?"

"Yes," Beckett replied. "And they're not valid until they bear my signature and my seal."

"Or else I would not still be here," Elizabeth said shortly. She'd been dismayed to find that section of the Letters blank. Had he been careless and signed them previously, she'd have been halfway to Tortuga by now. "You sent Will to get you the compass owned by Jack Sparrow." She smirked. "It will do you no good."

Beckett gave her the look of one allowing a child to tell them a mundane story of make-believe. "Do explain."

"I have been to the Isla de Muerta, I have seen the treasure myself," Elizabeth said. "There is something you need to know."

"Ah, I see," Beckett said with an amused look. "_You_ think the compass leads only to the Isla de Muerta, and so hope to 'save' me from an evil fate."

He cocked his head at her. "But you mustn't worry," he said in a tone that bespoke of his low opinion of her intelligence. "I care not for cursed Aztec gold. My desires are not so provincial. There's more than one chest of value in these waters. So perhaps you may wish to enhance your offer."

Elizabeth's frown had grown considerable as he spoke, but at his last words, her concentration resurged, and she cocked the pistol. That insufferable, nearly non-existent smile remained on his lips as he took the Letters from her and turned to sign them.

"Consider into your calculations that you robbed me of my wedding night," Elizabeth said icily.

"So I did," Beckett said flippantly, heating a stick of wax. "A marriage interrupted."

He spared her a glance. "Or fate intervenes," he said. "You make great efforts to ensure two pirates' freedom."

Elizabeth shook her head as Beckett pressed his signet into the cooling wax seal. "Two pirates?"

Beckett smiled as he blew slightly on the wax. "Jack Sparrow and Genesis Morgan," he explained. "I had assumed that you were on such intimate terms with them, as your groom is." He held the Letters out to her.

"Not so intimate," she said, fingers landing on the Letters.

"Indeed."

He didn't release the Letters right away, and her eyes flew to his face. Something secretive there. He knew something she did not about Genesis, Jack, and Will. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"These aren't going to Jack and Genesis," she said, finally yanking the Letters free from his grasp.

"Oh really?" he said, cocking his head. "To ensure Mister Turner's freedom, then?"

He smirked. "I'll still want that compass. And the woman. Consider that into your calculations."

She moved to leave, and paused. It was eating at her. "What do you want with Morgan?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Family business."

&&&&&&&&&&

Once it was clear that she wasn't going to be flayed/tortured/eaten/slaughtered, Genesis found it easier to relax. Almost. The natives gave her some sort of fruit to eat, which she readily devoured, as the poison in the darts had made her ravenous. She tossed the rind into the fire, watching the waxy skin melt into the ashes, then raised an eyebrow as she felt a tug at the red sash at her waist. She looked down to see one of the women untying the knot.

"Um, excuse me, no," she said, gently swatting the woman's hands away. The native shook her head, reaching for the sash again. Gen slapped harder this time. The woman slapped back. Gen returned it. The woman recoiled, and Gen smiled triumphantly.

That is, until the woman launched herself at Gen, along with two other women, and they successfully robbed her of her sash. And her white sleeveless blouse. And black gauchos. And undergarments. Gen was screaming, thrashing like some animal that had just been shot, until they finally released her. She scrambled, naked, to the corner of the hut, where she curled up into the fetal position, covering herself as much as possible. The women approached her.

"What?" she yelled. "What do you want? Get away! I'm not gonna be some sort of sex slave for your sick pleasures. WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

The women paused, and one woman held up a grass skirt.

"Oh."


	5. In Which Ragetti ReMeets His Lady Love

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn. And they highly regret it. **

_Author's Note: Good Lord…what a short little snippet of a chapter. I think I may need to upload another tonight to make up for it. ^_^_

**Chapter Five: In Which Ragetti Re-Meets His Lady Love**

It was relatively quiet on the ocean, save the gentle lapping of the waves against the side of the longboat. The mongrel snoozed slightly on the floor of the boat, keys still securely in its muzzle, trying to ignore the arguing from the dirty humans who also inhabited the small vessel.

"Well, I say t'was divine providence what escaped us from jail," the gangly one said. Ragetti was holding a Bible. Whether he was reading it or not was not entirely clear.

"And I say," said the stouter one, Pintel, "it was me bein' _clever_. Ain't that right, poochie?" He reached down to give the mutt a scratch about the ear, but the canine groaned and moved farther away, to the bow of the boat.

"Well," Ragetti said, not ready to lose this debate. "How'd ye know it weren't divine providence what inspired ye t' _be_ clever? Anyways, I ain't stealin' no ship."

"It ain't stealin'!" Pintel argued in an exasperated tone. "It's _salvagin'_! And since when do you care?"

"Since we're not immortal no more," Ragetti explained. "We gotta take care o' our immortal souls." He went back to the ragged tome in his hands.

"Y'know you can't read," Pintel muttered.

"It's the Bible," Ragetti defended. "Ye get credit for tryin'."

"Pretendin' t' read the Bible's a _lie_!" Pintel exclaimed. "That's a mark against ye!" He jabbed his finger heavenward. Ragetti slammed the good book shut, ready to rumble, when the dog's barking interrupted him. Pintel's face brightened.

"Look! There it is!"

Ragetti looked to see the huge dark hulk of the _Black Pearl_ jutting out from the white sands of the beach. The dog yelped a couple more times, and leapt from the boat.

"What's got into _'im_?" Ragetti asked.

"Must've seen a catfish," Pintel said, chuckling. Ragetti looked at him blankly for a moment, then began to laugh heartily. He shook his head.

"Stupid mongrel."

A few rows, a capsized boat and a lengthy swim later, they finally reached the _Pearl_, splashing excitedly through the surf.

"Come on!" Pintel cried with a guffaw. "It's ours for the taking!"

On board the ship, hidden from their view by the railing, sat Rosalyn, still curled up and hidden behind the safety of the railing; she hadn't moved from the spot for an hour, after seeing Will captured by some rather questionably nude and painted men. She sat in the fetal position, gripping the hilt of her sword until her knuckles turned white. Of course, the amount of adequate damage she could do with said sword was questionable, and she suddenly wished she had taken Gen's invitation to join her in Jack's fencing lessons. She frowned; her staff was still down in her cabin, a weapon she was much more capable with, but did she risked moving from her hiding spot and having the natives see her? Hell no, she didn't. In fifty years, when this little spit of an island was discovered, they'd find the skeleton of a cowering Irishwoman next on the bow. Sure, that would mean she'd die anyhow, but dying of starvation and exposure sounded a lot gentler than being…whatever that tribe did…

She froze, face pale (paler?) at the sound of splashes and yelling from over the railing of the ship. She turned her head slightly toward the sound, her self-made ringlets springing lightly in the slight movement, cocking her head to better hear the people below.

"Tide's comin', that should help. Well, salvagin' is savin', in a manner o' speakin'."

The words floated up to her, and she frowned. That was English, unless she'd suddenly been gifted with the talent of knowing Cannibalese. Her first thought was that the crew was back, but that didn't sound like any of the crew members…

"There's the truth o' it!"

That sounded like…

Roz let out a tiny gasp as a pounding rhythm echoed forth from the jungle beyond the beach. That was rather foreboding…

"Suppose we be'er…save it as soon as we can," came the first voice again. "What with our souls in such a vulnerable state, an' all."

"Amen to that."

The jarring sound of a dog barking shocked Rosalyn into action, and before she even realized she had moved, she had sprang to her feet, pulling her sword from its scabbard and pointing it with spectacular flair over the railing at the vandals.

"AYE, AVAST!"

It would have been horribly impressive. Had she not been horribly nervous. Had her hands not been so sweaty with anxiety. Had she known what she was doing with that bloody sword. Had she been there a year ago when Will's same line had failed so dismally in its attempt to intimidate.

As it was, it wasn't all that impressive.

The sword slipped from her damp grip, shuttling down with frightening speed at the two pirates below her, sticking down into the sand like a wavering Excalibur. The two men looked down at the blade, watching until it stilled in its swaying, then they slowly looked up at the young woman, who still stood in the defensive stance as if the cutlass had never left her grasp. There was a few moments of silence, odd silence, stunned silence, as the two sides recognized the other. Pintel's lips broke into a wicked grin.

"'Allo, poppet."


	6. In Which They Escape Isla de Hannibal

**Disclaimer: I, of course, own none of the characters featured in this chapter with the exception of Genesis and Rosalyn. And they highly regret it. **

_Author's Note: For the record…typing the cannibals' speech is Also, NEKKID!GEN for the fanboys. XD_

**Chapter Six: In Which They Escape the Isla de Hannibal**

It wasn't easy being chief. It was especially disconcerting being the newly instated chief of a tribe that was currently eyeing you as if to ponder which part of your anatomy would be dark meat, and which would be light. Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't sure of that answer, nor was he too fond of the idea of finding out.

The natives were adamant in their surveillance of him as they prepared the fire that was meant for him, so trying to sneak off was out of the question, as was attempting to peek into the hut to which Genesis had been dragged. His dark eyes flickered to the structure in which he knew Genesis to be. It had grown quiet, compared to the struggle and shouts he had heard issuing from it before. Too quiet. His brow furrowed slightly, but it was the only sign he gave that "his people" had displeased him.

He straightened as one of the native women exited the hut, whispering something excitedly to one of the men that seemed to be one of the leaders. The native man nodded eagerly, and the woman went back to open the flap of the hut, as the man looked to Jack.

"Ooda biggah!" the man said with a grin, motioning to the doorway of the tent. Jack followed his gesture, only to have the oxygen near sucked out of him as Genesis appeared.

She had been stripped of her clothing, to have it replaced by native fashions. A green skirt made of long grass hung low about her hips. It was obvious that she was topless, though she had remedied this by letting her long, wavy brown hair loose, arranging it over her bare breasts in her best attempt at modesty, given the situation. He thought, for a second, that he had rather wished that she had switched places with Rosalyn; Roz's shorter red hair would never have been long enough to cover her.

What the caramel locks didn't hide, there were garlands of flowers. Gold and shell bands encircled her wrists and ankles, as well as a wreath of violet flowers crowned on her head. He noticed, with some small amount of lechery, that some familiar hardware was still present in its permanent spot at her breast; a string of black pearls he had gifted her with on her birthday, as well as the silver crucifix she insisted on wearing at all times. The shark-tooth earring still hung at her left ear as well. He wondered, fleetingly, whether or not she had had to fight to keep the familiar trinkets.

"Jack, I'm up here."

Jack's dark eyes flashed dangerously at the tempting sight before him, meeting her eyes, which were currently flaring with blue-green fire. "Aye," he replied, a grin spreading wickedly across his features. "That you are."

Genesis scowled at him, and she glanced at the women who had exited the hut behind her. They nodded her forward, and she all but seethed as she turned back to him. "I'm an offering."

An eyebrow quirked. "That so?"

"Yes," she said curtly. "From what I gathered, whenever you're to become…god, monster, whatever the hell you're supposed to be…you require a…a…"

"Sacrifice?"

"Worse," she said snippily. "A consort."

There was that smile again. Gen's eyes narrowed slightly, once again looking to the women, who once again waved her forward. She frowned, and looked up to him on his throne. "Jack," she said seriously. "I'm going to play along with this. So long as you know one thing. This. Is not. _Permission_."

"O' course, love," Jack said, shrugging as if the thought of using this outward show to his advantage in his seemingly never-ending quest to bed her never crossed his mind. "You go on pretending you don't want me to shackle you to the helm and ravish you 'til you forget your name. I won't tell anyone your secret."

Gen's cheeks burned as she took a deep breath to calm herself, closing her eyes. "You're lucky they took my effects, Sparrow," she muttered. She opened her eyes again, and slowly, steadily, moved toward him, and, with visual, obvious disdain, sank to her knees before him, torso framed by his knees. A provocative position to be in to be sure, and Jack grinned, clearly loving every minute of this. Gen's fingers traveled up to one of the garlands of tropical blooms that were draped over her shoulder, and lifted the end that hung over her torso.

"Lean forward," she muttered. "If I don't do this like they showed me, they'll take me back into the hut and show me what that collection of shiny, sharp implements I saw is for."

Jack leaned forward, not breaking eye contact with the young woman before him as she draped the garland over his crowned head and around his neck, joining them in an oval of fragrant blossoms. Her face remained impassive as she spoke.

"You have to kiss me," she said quietly. "It shows your acceptance of the…" she wrinkled her nose, "…_gift_."

He glanced over Gen's bare shoulder, seeing that the natives were very much enthralled with the proceedings, practically holding their breath. He looked back to Genesis. Her eyes were turned down, gaze hidden by dark lashes, though her face was tipped up somewhat expectantly. He eyed her for a moment, lips turned in a hint of a smile, realizing she couldn't fight him off in this instance. Wasn't that convenient?

He leaned in, until their lips were a mere inch apart; her eyes had closed completely now, a tiny line forming between her brows, the only outward sign of distress over the situation.

"No need to look so excited, Gen, m'love," he murmured, slightly insulted.

"No need to prolong the act, Captain," she whispered back. Her eyes opened slightly, eyeing him in all seriousness. "Please, just do it."

He frowned at her, but listened nonetheless. His fingers rose to gently lift her face up, and he leaned in. Her eyes closed again as she just barely felt his lips brush against hers, feather-light, barely touching her, and she felt a heat rush to her face.

"Hurry-hurry tan daga!"

Jack let out an almost noiseless growl, unheard by Genesis, as she wrenched her face away and whipped around at the urgent exclamation, garland breaking and sending tropical blooms over his lap. Jack just barely heard her next words.

"Holy shit."

Jack opened his eyes to see the natives bringing forward a man tied to a pole. A very familiar man. A Will Turner man.

"Will?" Gen gasped.

Will looked up, spotting Jack first, as Genesis was still seated at Jack's feet. "Jack?" he asked in a disbelieving tone. "Jack Sparrow! I can honestly say that I'm glad to see you!"

Jack was silent, and Will looked to the decorated woman at the pirate's feet. "Genesis Morgan?"

"What are you doing here?" Gen said, moving to go to Will's side. She was halted by a bejeweled hand on her shoulder, and looked back to see Jack keeping her where she was with one authoritative hand. She frowned up at him, and he returned the expression with a stern look that said not only was she to remain seated because of the natives, she was to stay there because her captain deemed it so. She lowered herself back to the ground, not liking playing the part of a submissive consort one bit.

Jack rose from the throne with all the airs of his new chiefdom, making his way over to the strung-up Will. Jack eyed the younger man, sizing him up, and poked him once in the shoulder, as if to test the amount of meat Will had on him. The blacksmith stared at Jack in shock.

"Jack!" he said. "It's me! Will Turner!"

"He knows," Gen said from her spot near the throne. "He needs to play along. So do you."

Jack glanced at Genesis for a moment, and then looked to a white-faced native. "Wah-say kohn."

"Een dah-lah," the cannibal replied. He looked to the crowd. "Eeseepi!"

"Eeseepi!" the crowd echoed.

"Tell them to let me down!" Will said desperately to Jack. He glanced at Genesis. "Where's the crew?"

He merely got a nervous shrug in return, and Jack went about addressing the tribe. "Kay-lay lam. Lam piki-piki. Lam meensy weensy. Lam say-say…eunuchy. Snip-snip."

"Ahhh…eunuchy!" the crowd echoed in recognition. He made a scissor-like motion with his fingers, and Gen couldn't help but snort slightly with stifled laughter. Even in their rather dire situation, she couldn't keep a straight face at Jack's running gag.

Jack turned to return to his throne, clearly uninterested in Will, when Will's eyes alighted at the compass swinging at his hip. "Jack!" he said. "The compass! That's all I need." His eyes flickered to Genesis for a moment, his voice faltering. Gen eyed him carefully as he continued; she didn't like that look.

"Elizabeth is in danger," he said in desperate tones. "We were arrested for trying to help _you_. She faces the gallows!"

Jack paused, then turned around and walked back casually. Gen rose to her feet at the mention of Elizabeth being in danger. Danger? How? What had they done? Her mind went back to the day she, Roz, and Jack had escaped Port Royal.

Oh.

"Say-say lam shoop-shoop sha smalay-lama shoo-koo, savvy?" Jack said to the cannibals. "Ball licky-licky."

"Jack, that's disgusting." Jack tossed a glare over his shoulder at Genesis.

"Ball licky-licky!" said a green-faced cannibal.

"Ball licky-licky!" cried the rest of the crowd.

"Jack, they don't want to eat you!" Genesis said in an oddly cheerful tone. "They just want to have their way with your manly bits!"

The crowd began chanting repetitiously, swaying back and forth. Jack looked to Will, his painted eyes wide. "Save me!" he whispered urgently before turning back to the throne. The cannibals began to haul Will away, ignoring his cries of protest. Jack smiled at Genesis, who looked appalled at what had just happened.

"Now, love, where were we?" he said, falling into the throne and widening his thighs in a gesture that clearly invited her to reposition herself between them once again. She gave him a glare that could melt the ice caps.

"Yeah, I'm thinking 'no,'" she said, looking disgusted. "How could you do that to Will? You don't even know what they're about to do to him!"

Jack tilted his head at her, and then halted the men carrying Will away. Gen breathed a sigh of relief, and looked up at Jack expectantly. He took her by the wrist to bid her closer as the natives watched, and she drew up on her knees to do so, eyeing him suspiciously. He gazed at her, from her wildly spilling brunette waves to her sharp aqua glare, down to the rose-colored lips turned down slightly in a frown. His fingers reached up, feathering lightly over her jaw line, and he noticed, with some amusement, that his touch caused her to swallow hard, lashes fluttering closed before opening again to shoot him an icy look.

He released her.

And smirked.

She frowned. "…Jack…"

Jack raised a hand and waved it over her. A dismissive wave.

A rejecting wave.

Gen's eyes went from angry slits to outraged saucers as she felt the strong hands of the natives lay hold of her. She attempted in vain to free herself, but resigned herself to the tsunami of expletives and insults to Jack and his family line in the manner he and the _Pearl_ crew had coined the 'Morgan Treatment.' Jack frowned as Genesis was dragged off in the same direction Will had been.

"Now, I _know MY_ mother wasn't that bad…"

&&&&&&&&&&

To say that the crew of _The Black Pearl_ was surprised to see Will Turner was an understatement, as evidenced by Gibbs' eloquent first words as Will was tossed into the spherical cage with them:

"What in the name o' Hell's whore are _you_ doin' here?"

"Good to see you too," Will muttered. He looked at his cagemates: Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, a young man he did not recognize. Clearly a new recruit.

Will glanced at Cotton. "I saw your bird." The old man smiled in happy relief. Will then looked to Gibbs. "Please tell me that you have some idea of what's going on."

"They made Jack their chief."

"Of course they did," Will said with a roll of his eyes. "And Genesis? What's her new role in this little charade?"

"You saw Miss Gen?" piped up Anthony, the new recruit.

"She's alive?" Marty asked urgently.

"She's all right?" Gibbs added.

Will winced at the sudden questioning; it was quite obvious that the crew had expected the worst for his 'sister.' "Well…"

He didn't have to answer. He'd barely gotten the word out before the aforementioned lady herself made her presence known, exploding out of the foliage beyond, thrashing and screaming like a wildcat, much to the dismay of the two men dragging her. She caught sight of the cage Will was in, and the second cage that held the rest of the crew in the chasm below, and froze, mouth opening with a characteristically articulate statement:

"Oh, fuck me sideways."

The two natives pushed her into Will's cage, and she landed sprawled at their feet in a pile of grass skirt and wild hair. It was evident that it was at this point that the crew realized that she was barely clothed, as they all averted their eyes as her garlands and hair failed to cover her. Genesis almost smirked; at least the natives were tossing her into the more savory and polite half of the crew. She had the feeling that Leech and the others would have failed to look away. She moved to sit up and was greeted by a wad of fabric dangling in her face. She took the gray frock from the hands of the now-shirtless Anthony and tugged it on. It was far too large, but she smiled briefly at him. "Thanks, mate."

"No probleeeaaaAAAAAGGHHH!"

That, ladies and gentlemen, was the sound of a cage full of pirates (and one semi-pirate) being pushed off the edge of the cliff. The cage swung wildly until slowing to a lazy sway. The crew was silent for a moment, breathing heavily, attempting to recuperate from the dizzying fall. Unsurprisingly, Genesis, facedown on the floor of the cage, was the first to speak.

"Ima kill Jack. Hard."

"Why would he do this to us?" Will asked breathlessly, helping the resident female to her feet. "If Jack is their chief…"

"Because he's an ass," Gen muttered, brushing off her borrowed shirt and grass skirt.

"The Pelegostos made Jack their chief," Gibbs explained. "But he only remains chief as long as he _acts_ like a chief."

"He can't do anything out of character," Gen added. "Else they'll find him out."

Marty glanced at Gen's attire. "I'm guessin' you failed t' do the same?"

Genesis shrugged. "Apparently, I'm not fit for the role of submissive sex slave. Shocking, eh?"

"More unfortunate than anything else," Leech's voice piped up from the next cage.

Gen glared. "A gun. Please. Anyone."

"So Jack had no choice," Will murmured. "He's a captive then as much as the rest of us."

"Worse, as it turns out," Gibbs said somberly. "See, the Pelegostos believe that Jack is a _god_ in human form--"

"'S' funny," Gen quipped. "So does Jack."

"--And they intend to do him the honor of releasing him from his fleshy prison." Cotton grabbed Gibbs' hand and bit down on his finger to illustrate. A crunching sound was intermingled with Gibbs' strangled grunts of pain.

Genesis grimaced. "Jack kabobs."

"Where's the rest of the crew?" Will asked suddenly. Genesis looked at Gibbs expectantly, eager to hear their fate as well.

"These cages we're in," Gibbs said grimly, "weren't built 'til _after_ we got here."

Will and Genesis both looked at the cage wall. Upon focusing on the bars, it was obvious that they were made of bone. Human bone. Will tore his hand from a femur, and Genesis paled.

"Oh…that's…just…ew…"

The sound of drums echoed down into the ravine. Gibbs frowned. "The feast is about to begin," he muttered. "Jack's life will end when the drums stop."

Genesis tossed him an odd look. "Hey, Oh Omniscient One," she said. "How come you always know this stuff?"

Gibbs merely shrugged, while Will, true to his nature, took the heroic route.

"Well, we can't just sit here and wait then, can we?"

&&&&&&&&&&

Minutes later, the crew of _The Black Pearl_ had become a human swing set. The two cages swung in wide arcs over the chasm, inching closer and closer to the wall. Finally, one of the men made contact with a vine, and they all managed to grab onto various crags.

"Put your legs through!" Gibbs commanded. "Start to climb!"

The dozen crewmen wasted no time in following the first mate's instruction, and slowly, achingly, they began creeping up the wall of the canyon, grunting and groaning.

"Come on, men!" Will said encouragingly. "It'll take all the rest to crew _The Black Pearl_!"

"Actually," Leech said conversationally, "you won't need everyone. 'Bout six would do."

The cages stopped, and the two groups of six looked at each other.

"Mother effer," Genesis breathed.

"Ohhhhh dear…" Leech murmured. Those in Gen's cage glanced at Gibbs, who nodded.

"Hurry!" Will cried, as the two cages began a quickened ascent, scrambling up the cliff face in a desperate race to the top. Will's heartening cries continued, until they had nearly made it to the top and he caught a movement on the bridge above them. "STOP!"

Genesis followed his gaze, spotting a cannibal on the bridge. "Stop, stop!" she hissed. "Shhh!"

All eyes went to the man above them, who seemed oblivious to what was happening in the cages below. Gen didn't breathe, didn't dare to move. And she saw, with no small level of irritation, that their neighbors in the other cage weren't so cautious.

"What's he doing?" she said angrily, watching Leech give the command to continue.

"Stop!" Gibbs whispered harshly. It fell on deaf ears.

"Stupid bloody rassafrackin' pirate!" Genesis cursed. She watched in horror as one of the many hands sticking out of the cage caught hold of a rather brightly-colored vine. A vine that hissed at him. The pirate screamed, and one by one, they all lost their grips and being plummeting to the bottom of the gorge in a chorus of screams. Gen looked up to see the cannibal on the bridge looking right at her.

"So much for stealth," Gen growled.

"Move!" Will shouted, and the remaining six scuttled up the rock face, reaching the top of the cliff with more than a few curses. Will severed the rope with a sharp rock and looked up to see the cannibal running off to warn his brethren. "Roll the cage!"

Despite the blacksmith's limited authority in this company, they wasted no time in listening, rolling the cage downhill. "Lift the cage!" Will yelled. "Hurry!"

"Come on, men!" Gibbs added. "Lift it like a lady's skirt!"

Gen felt the need to add her two cents.

"Lift it and I'll lift mine!"

Speed doubled.

&&&&&&&&&&

Rosalyn, meanwhile, had issues of her own. She was currently clinging to a low mast of _The Black Pearl_, Cotton's parrot chirping at her shoulder as Ragetti scrambled along the deck below.

"Scabrous dogs, scabrous dogs, brawk!"

"Yeah!" she yelled. "What the chicken said!"

"Unloose the mooring lines!" Pintel yelled from the beach below. "The mooring lines!"

"No!" Roz shouted. "Don't touch the mooring lines! I'll…I'll…throw the chicken!"

The parrot flew off to the next mast.

"GOD DAMMIT."

"My eye!"

Roz looked down to see Ragetti on his hands and knees, chasing a wooden sphere across the deck. A chattering sound reached Rosalyn's ears, and she watched as Monkey Jack bounded out of nowhere, snatching up the wooden eye and climbing up the mast to where she was.

"OOH. OOH. GOOD MONKEY. Come to Rozzie!"

"Thief!" Ragetti shouted. "Little hairy thief, give it back!"

Monkey Jack glanced down at him, and promptly stuffed the eye into his mouth.

"Don't bite it!" Ragetti cried.

"Unloose the mooring lines!" Pintel roared again.

"He's got my eye!" Ragetti whined. "He won't give it back!"

Roz gave the thin pirate an impish grin, and looked to Monkey Jack. "All right, fuzzball," she said. "Give Auntie Roz the eyeball. …I can't believe I just said that…"

Much to her surprise, Monkey Jack chattered in a friendly manner and climbed up to her, winding up her torso to perch up behind her neck. His hand appeared next to her temple, and she plucked the eye from his nimble little fingers. She smirked down at Ragetti, who was looking at her much like a little boy who'd just lost his favored toy to the schoolyard bully.

"Now, Mister Ragetti," she said, tossing the eye up and down for a moment. "I'm a bargaining woman…"

He looked hopeful.

"If you promise not to touch me when I come down, and stop trying to steal my boat…ship…I will give you your eye. Agreed?"

"What's goin' on up there?" Pintel yelled.

"Nothing!" Ragetti squeaked. He looked absolutely torn. He really did like this eye.

"Mister Ragetti!" Roz snapped. "I have no issue with making your eye a monkey chew toy. Are. We. Agreed?"

Before the poor man could answer, Gibbs voice could be heard down below with Pintel. "Excellent work! Work's half done!"

"Uh…I…We done it for you!" Pintel stammered. "Knowin' you'd be comin' back fer us!"

Rosalyn huffed indignantly. "Lying son of a--"

"Make ready to sail, boys!" Gibbs shouted, climbing up the rope. Roz, with Monkey Jack still clinging to her neck, leapt to the rope ladder leading up to the crow's nest, as Will appeared on the deck, scrambling up behind Gibbs.

"What about Jack?" he said desperately. "I won't leave without him."

Roz about fell down the rigging, her relief at seeing Genesis climb over the railing behind the blacksmith was so great.

"EY!"

The entire crew swung their heads to the direction of the shout. Roz's jaw dropped as she saw Jack round the corner around an outcropping of rocks on the beach, followed by at least six dozen cannibals. Gen spoke first.

"EFF THAT."

"Time to go!" Will concurred, giving Gen a leg-up to the riggings, where she clambered to her post.

"Cast off those lines!" Gibbs shouted.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Jack screamed.

"Make ready to cast off!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oy, Gibbs?" Roz shouted from the crow's nest. "I think that captain's trying to tell us something…"

With an impressive leap, Jack latched onto the riggings of the ship as it cast off to sea. He swung back to look at the disappointed natives. "Alas, my children!" he said dramatically. "This is the day you shall always remember as the day what you almost--"

A wave crashed over him, drowning out the rest of his signature line.

"…Captain Jack Sparrow."

Gibbs aided Jack in boarding the ship, draping his jacket over his shoulders. "Let's put some distance between us and this island, and head out to open sea."

"Yes to the first, yes to the second, but only insofar as we keep to the shallows as much as possible," was the reply. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Seems a bit…contradictory, Captain," he said slowly.

"It sounds like someone's a couple merlots short of a wine rack," said Gen, hopping down from the riggings, followed closely by Rosalyn.

Jack marched past them, placing a palm on Gen's forehead and pushing her out of the way. "I have every faith in your reconciliatory navigational skills, Master Gibbs," he said, opening his compass and eyeing it with a furrowed brow. He snapped it shut. "Now where is that monkey? I want to shoot something."

Monkey Jack let out a frightened squeak and clung to Rosalyn's head. Jack opened his compass again, glancing up as he wandered around the deck.

"Jack," Will said quietly.

"Not now," Jack muttered, eyeing the needle.

"Jack, I need--"

"Not now!"

"Jack," Gen snapped. "I think Lassie's trying to tell you something."

"Oh _God_," Rosalyn exclaimed. "Is Timmy in the well?!"

Jack finally looked up, and started upon seeing Will, as if doing so for the first time. "Oh. You."

"Elizabeth is in danger," Will blurted.

"That has a familiar ring to it…" Gen pondered.

"Yeah," Roz added. "Can you say déjà vu?"

"Have you considered keeping a more watchful eye on her?" Jack asked in a sincere manner. "Maybe just lock her up somewhere?"

"She _is _locked up," Will barked. "In a prison. For helping you!"

Jack waved a dismissive bejeweled hand. "There comes a time when one must take responsibility for one's mistakes."

Roz let out a yelp as Will's hand shot to her hip, pulling her sword from its sheath and pointing it at Jack. Gen rolled her eyes. "Oh, Christ Almighty, Willy, like this has worked before?"

"I need that compass of yours, Jack," he said in a low tone. His dark eyes flickered to Genesis. "Among other things…I must trade it for her freedom."

Genesis frowned. "What 'other things'," she asked. Will's eyes found her again, but moved away just as quickly. She didn't like that look one bit.

Jack's eyes practically crossed as he eyed the sword, and he pushed it to one side. "Mister Gibbs!"

"Cap'n?"

"We have a need to sail upriver," Jack announced, heading toward the helm.

"By 'need,'" Gibbs asked, "D'you mean a…trifling need? Fleeting? As if to say in a passing fancy?"

"No," Jack said. "A resolute and unyielding need."

"Resolute and unyielding," Gen said. "Like Jack's libido."

"Or herpes," Roz offered.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Gen said with a shrug.

"What we need to do is make sail for Port Royal with all haste," Will said sternly.

"Y' see, Willy, m'boy," Gen said, slipping an arm around his shoulders in a friendly manner. "The kind people of Port Royal don't really take kindly to us. In fact, they'd really love to make us into pretty little pirate Christmas tree ornaments. So I think we're gonna have to pass on that little side trip, please and thank you."

"William," Jack said thoughtfully. "I shall trade you the compass, if you will help me to find this." He pulled out the drawing of the key.

"I found it!" Roz said happily. "It's in your hand!"

"You want me to find this?" Will asked skeptically.

"No," Jack said, a slow trickster's smile spreading over his lips. "_You_ want you to find this. Because the finding of this finds you incapacitorially finding and/or locating and your discovering the detecting of a way to save your dolly belle ol'…wha's-her-face. Savvy?"

They stared at him blankly.

"This…is going to save Elizabeth?" Will asked tentatively.

Gen raised her eyebrow unbelievingly. "You got that from _that_?"

Jack leaned in towards Will. "How much do you know about Davy Jones?"

Will paused. "Not much…"

Jack waited a beat, then nodded. "Yeah, it's gonna save Elizabeth."


End file.
